


A Christmas Miracle

by Little_Plebe



Series: Wish Prompts [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, POV Darcy Lewis, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), dad!Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/pseuds/Little_Plebe
Summary: Darcy didn't think venturing out wearing a bright green face mask would earn her any admirers.Turns out, she was wrong.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Series: Wish Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/797274
Comments: 66
Kudos: 318





	A Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Story written for a wish prompt sent to me on tumblr. [Link here](https://littleplebe.tumblr.com/post/189964559429/i-wish-youd-write-something-with-steve-and-darcy).
> 
> I apologize for the totally cheesy title.

Darcy Lewis was an ordinary woman. She may have helped save the world a couple of times but she was still relatively anonymous. She didn’t attract people’s attention like Jane did, she wasn’t involved with SHIELD anymore, and she hadn’t seen nor heard from Thor in ten years. The bastard hadn’t even attempted to contact her after everyone she knew, including Jane, had crumbled into a sorry pile of ash.

No longer a person of interest and no longer as youthful as she once was, Darcy was just another face in the crowd. Unless she dressed up, not a lot of people had much interest in giving her a second glance.

Except on one particular Self-Care Sunday, when she dared to venture into the supermarket wearing a long woolen robe, bunny slippers too big for her feet, and a bright green face mask. The only explanation she had for her complete lack of effort was laziness combined with a certain sense of recklessness which she only felt at times she had nothing to lose.

People stared and jumped out of her way as she practically flew past them, sweeping everything unhealthy off the shelves and into her shopping cart. She was expecting the strange looks; she knew she looked crazy. What she wasn’t expecting was a little girl standing just down the aisle to fall in love with her.

With a cart filled half-way with junk food, Darcy was busy contemplating a box of strawberry pop tarts when she felt eyes on her. She looked up to see a tiny red-haired girl staring openly at her. Dressed in all black, save for the belt and scarf which were red, the girl looked no older than five. Her eyes were round as saucers, seemingly awed by Darcy’s appearance.

Normally, Darcy would stick her tongue out or wink or make a silly face, but she had rarely ever been subjected to this kind of intense scrutiny. The girl wasn’t looking at her like she was a freak; she was staring as if Darcy was someone important. It was unusual. Darcy frowned and checked behind her to make sure there was no one there.

There wasn’t. She turned back, mystified, and returned the little girl’s steady gaze.

It was effortful to smile now that her face mask had dried and tightened, almost becoming a second skin. So, she waved at the kid instead, mouthing, “Hey.”

The girl burst into a smile and waved back, using her other hand to tug excitedly on the sleeve of a man standing next to her.

“Dad.” Her loud whisper carried down the aisle. “Dad, look!”

While Darcy immediately turned away, not wanting to seem like a creep and having no idea what even was going on, the Dad’s smooth, distracted voice reached her now alert ears.

“You better not be showing me another box of cookies, Nat. I’m not buying you any more of that stuff.”

A quick sideways glance revealed the Dad studying a display of oatmeal. The red and white checkered sweater and blue jeans he was wearing did little to hide how ripped he was.

 _Shit_ , Darcy thought, spinning away when he finally turned at another insistent tug on his sleeve.

“What, Natasha?”

“Look!”

Pretending to act casual in a situation like this was tough. Darcy carefully placed the box of pop tarts back on the shelf and felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. More than a thousand times she had been to that store and not once had another patron made eye contact with her. Now, two people were staring at her—surprisingly not in a ‘why are you weird?’ way—and the unexpected attention was making her exceedingly twitchy.

She couldn’t resist. She looked their way.

“Sorry, I just waved at her,” the words tumbled out of her the moment she laid eyes on the Dad.

He was disturbingly attractive. The blue of his eyes was discernible even from a distance and the thick beard made him look like a sexy lumberjack.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Darcy trailed away lamely.

Just her luck to step out looking completely ridiculous, only to come face to face with the most handsome man she had ever met.

She nervously watched as he took his daughter’s hand—her other was still up in a half-wave aimed at Darcy—and they ambled over to stand before her. The impulse to turn tail and run was strong.

“Um…” Would someone please explain to her what the hell was happening?

“She has never done that before,” the Dad spoke, regarding her with wonder.

Darcy glanced curiously at the redhead, who had pretty much invaded her personal space and was smiling widely up at her.

“Done what?” she enquired, fighting the urge to rumple those beautiful red curls.

“Nat never smiles or waves at anyone.”

It was Darcy’s turn to stare. “Really?” she whispered. “Never?”

The Dad nodded, tilting his head in confusion. “Unless she knows and approves of them. She’s… uh, not a people person.” He squeezed his daughter’s hand. “Do you know her, sweetheart?”

Darcy was genuinely flattered until Nat nodded and shot her father a look of disbelief. “ _Daaaad_ ,” she whispered as if he was being stupid on purpose. “Look at her big feet and green skin. She’s the Hulk!” She proceeded to give Darcy an assessing look, not catching onto the mortification on both adults’ faces. “I’ve seen you on TV. But you’re… so small.” The hint of disappointment in her voice was adorable. She plowed on regardless. “Will you buy me cookies?”

Darcy blinked at the sudden turn in conversation, momentarily stumped. The Dad looked like he wanted to clamp a hand over his daughter’s mouth and put her in his pocket. “Nat!” he exclaimed, but his reprimand had zero effect. Nat’s focus remained on Darcy.

“Sure, um, only if your Dad allows. But these are just slippers,” Darcy hastened to add, pinking slightly and speaking more to the Dad. “They’re not my size. I don’t actually have big feet.” That was wholly unnecessary information, yet something inside her kept her talking. “I mean, they aren’t small either but… let’s just say they’re averagely sized.” She didn’t know why she was doing this to herself. “As averagely sized as feet can be.” She needed to shut up. “You’ll like them.”

 _God_. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, the Dad appeared to be fighting a smile.

“I’m sure I will,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching despite his best efforts. “I’m Steve. I like feet of all shapes and sizes.”

“I’m Natasha,” Nat piped up, following her father’s lead. “I have two birthdays.”

Darcy relaxed, a snort escaping her. “And I’m Darcy. Not, I’m sorry to say, the Hulk. Jennifer Walters is much younger and way cooler than I am.” At Natasha’s downcast expression, Darcy knelt down to the redhead’s level and peeled a bit of her face mask from her chin. “It’s just a beauty mask, see. Here, try it.”

Natasha was fascinated. She raised a hand to do some peeling herself. “Woah…”

Darcy suppressed a giggle. “Is Hulk your favorite Avenger?”

Nat shook her head, little fingers gently peeling away. Steve cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed at his daughter’s behavior. It was cute.

“She’s my second favorite. I like Black Widow more. I was named after her.”

“I hear she was very brave,” Darcy returned with a nod.

“So am I.”

“I bet.” Kids like Nat made her want kids of her own. She smiled and stood up. “Now why don’t we see about those cookies, eh?”

Steve shook his head at once. “She has enough of those at home.”

Nat took a hold of Darcy’s hand, ignoring him completely. “But they’re sugar cookies. I want chocolate chip ones. It’s Christmas! And I’ve been a good girl.” She squeezed Darcy’s hand and Darcy looked down at her.

“Don’t,” Steve tried to warn but it was too late; she was gone already.

Natasha’s eyes were filled with so much hope, and the sad, pleading expression on her face was so adorable that it was enough to make even an unfeeling person’s resolve waver. “Please, Darcy,” she urged softly and Darcy melted.

_All she needs is some cookies. That’s not asking too much, is it?_

Steve sighed as if he could hear her inner conflict. “She’s got you bewitched, hasn’t she?”

Darcy snapped her gaze to his. “No, I…” She paused, unable to explain it any other way. “It’s Christmas?” she tried with an earnest smile.

“Not until Thursday,” came the wry response. “Some friendly advice for the future, never look Natasha in the eye.”

Nat pursed her lips but the corners of her mouth tipped up into something resembling a proud smirk. “Uncle Bucky calls me his Little Witch. He says I’m enchanting.”

“Uncle Bucky is too old to understand what words mean,” Steve grumbled, leaning forward and nearly brushing against Darcy as he reached behind her to likely grab something from the shelf.

Darcy tried not to react as goose bumps erupted all over her skin. Steve emanated such warmth, and smelled so good that she briefly fantasized embracing him. He was built like a tank, and she was sure if he tried, he’d be able to wrap himself around her frame and engulf her whole.

“Here’s your cookies,” he said, stepping away and tossing a box to Nat. “That’s your Christmas present, by the way.”

The redhead rolled her eyes and whispered to Darcy, “He’s too nice not to get me a Christmas present. Last year, he got me five. One of them was a PlayStation and I don’t even _like_ video games.”

Darcy suppressed a giggle as she looked at Steve, who opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head. “That’s enough, smart alec. Let’s go.”

They paid for their stuff and walked out together in the crisp evening air, Steve offering to carry Darcy’s considerably heavier shopping bag along with his small one. He glanced inside at the dozen bags of nachos and crisps she’d purchased, as well as the boxed wine, and shot Darcy a curious look.

“Having a party, I presume?”

 _‘Nah. It’s all for me ‘cause I’ve nothing better to do than eat and sleep on weekends’_ sounded too pathetic to say out loud. So, Darcy coughed and shook her head, mumbling, “Not really,” and refrained from elaborating.

Steve raised his eyebrows but was polite enough to not comment. He mostly chose to remain silent as the two females conversed.

For someone who wasn’t a people person, Natasha sure had a lot to say to Darcy. She was surprisingly clever for a five year old and said the cutest things with a perfectly serious face.

“Uncle Bucky said he’d get me a unicorn for Christmas,” she was huffing as they trudged along down the snow covered street. It was snowing lightly, and in the rays of the setting sun, the city looked magical. Natasha continued, “But I can’t take care of a unicorn! Unicorns know when we’re sad or angry. I don’t want it to be sad just because _I’m_ sad. What if it loses its magic? _Or it’s horn_?”

Darcy nodded understandably, catching a falling snowflake in her palm. “That’s certainly a big responsibility.”

“I know,” Nat said on a heavy sigh, making a bubble of laughter rise up within Darcy. “I told him to give me a baby pig instead.”

“Why a pig?”

“It’s pink,” came the prompt reply. “I like pink.”

“Yeah,” murmured Darcy, sharing an amused glance with Steve. “That’s reason enough.” She sighed as they neared her apartment building and came to a reluctant stop. “Well, this is me.”

Her two companions peered up at the building she was pointing at. It wasn’t that far from the supermarket. Barely thirty steps. It was why she had even dared to step out looking the way she did. Easier to rush home afterward.

“Oh,” Steve whispered, catching her attention. Was that disappointment she heard in his voice?

They stood there for a beat, shuffling their feet and avoiding prolonged eye contact, acting like coy teenagers in a G rated romance. Darcy didn’t want to part ways as strangers and never see them again. She wondered whether it would be appropriate to ask them where they lived or perhaps give them her phone number. Running into them had been the highlight of her week.

Feeling cowardly and defeated, she opened her mouth to say, “Well, bye then,” when Nat spoke up.

“Do you have to go?” She pouted, using the same trick she’d used at the market, giving Darcy her best puppy eyes. “You can come with us. We’re going to see a movie.”

“Oh, um…” Darcy floundered, gaze automatically drawn to Steve’s. His skin was flushed from the cold and there were flecks of snow on his eye lashes. Not for the first time, Darcy wondered about a Mrs. Steve.

She was tempted to say _oh, yes!_ but didn’t know if it was a good idea. What would Steve think of her if she agreed? Did he even want her to tag along?

His lack of an immediate response planted a seed of doubt in her mind. His daughter’s boldness seemed to have thrown him off guard, causing him to shoot her a look of exasperation, but he didn’t say anything, simply watched Darcy as if waiting for her to answer. When all she did was pat Nat’s hair and stall for time, he seemed to realize she was waiting for _his_ invitation.

“Oh!” he started, blinking in surprise. “You don’t have to—I mean, Nat’s just,” he rubbed the back of his neck and offered her a lopsided smile. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Darcy nodded slowly, studying him for any signs of reservation.

“But only if you want to,” he hastened to add, and that addition gave her the reassurance she needed. He meant his words.

Darcy didn’t have to consider her options. She could spend her Sunday with Hot Dad Steve and Mini Black Widow, or alone at home bingeing on crisps and wine, watching cheesy romantic movies on repeat. It was a no-brainer. Except, there was still the running question of Mrs. Steve in her mind which she desperately wanted answered. There was no good way to ask it.

“What about your mom?” She kept her eyes firmly on Nat. “Will she be there?”

“I don’t have a mommy,” Nat replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “It’s just me and daddy.”

“Okay.” Darcy tried not to show her relief. She braved a glance at Steve and could tell he knew exactly what she had done. His lips twitched as he silently held out her shopping to her. She grinned and took it. “Just give me ten minutes. I’ll be right down.”

Nat bounced happily on her feet. “Okay, Darcy.”

Darcy turned to go, then stopped and gave them an apologetic look. “I’d invite you up, but my house is a mess right now and—”

“Darcy,” Steve cut her off gently, saying her name for the first time, and Darcy paused with her mouth hanging open. “It’s fine. We’re happy to wait. Go.” He raised his brows when she remained unmoving. “Go!”

“Yes.” Darcy jumped into action. “Thanks. Ten minutes.”

She ran inside and took two steps at a time, bursting through her door in record time, setting her load on the kitchen table, and making a beeline for the bathroom. It took five minutes to remove her face mask, wash up, and free her hair from the bun she’d pulled it up in earlier. She looked better when it was framing her face and fell past her shoulders in natural waves.

It took another five minutes to decide what she’d wear. Nothing in her closet seemed to call out to her and she desperately wanted to make a good second impression since her first had been so silly. Eventually, she slipped into her trusty black dress and topped it with a scarf and a red trench coat that she loved.

“Ready,” she panted, adjusting her scarf as she breezed out of the building to greet the waiting duo.

Both of them took a moment to take Darcy in. Steve went still and Nat’s eyes lit up.

“You’re so pretty.” She pointed at Darcy’s red and black outfit combination and exclaimed, “We match!”

Darcy nodded, tapping Nat’s button nose. “I know.”

Steve cleared his throat and they turned to him, Darcy pinking slightly under his regard. “Shall we?” he murmured, gesturing back the way they came. “Car’s that way.”

They walked back to the supermarket where Steve’s car was parked. Nat got in the back and buckled herself up like a good girl. Darcy slid in the passenger seat, trying not to read too much into how Steve had walked her home when he could have easily said goodbye and driven away after leaving the market.

He probably did that for everyone.

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Darcy turned in her seat and asked, “Which movie are we going to see?” She’d admit she was excited, not having been to the cinema in years.

“Miracle on 34th Street,” Steve replied, earning her approval. They didn’t make movies like that anymore.

The recent brand of movies and shows all revolved around The Blip one way or another. Docu-series about the Avengers; found family dramas about people coming together during The Blip; movies about people losing their loved ones, not in The Blip but as a consequence of it; shows uncovering conspiracy theories about what actually happened; and just basically, lots and lots of sad, distressing content.

The last movie Darcy had seen was with Jane, about a couple falling in love in the afterlife and having to find each other again in this life because they had no memory of their time together during The Blip. In essence, it had been a hopeful, romantic movie, but it had failed to cheer Jane up, who didn’t remember anything about her time away either.

For the dusted, the passage of five years had only been a blink of an eye. But there were some who believed that wasn’t true. They talked about an afterlife. A better life. The memories of which had been erased from their minds for some divine reason.

Fascinating as the theory was, it wasn’t very comforting. It had spawned at least seven movies in the last three years and Darcy had lost interest. She and Jane had an unspoken rule never to consume any content featuring The Blip anymore. Enough time had passed. The world needed to move on.

“Do you like it?” Steve asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. He was watching her. “The movie? We could see something else if you don’t… they’re showing re-runs of old movies at the Spectacle.”

Darcy shook her head. “No, I love it! We’re watching the original, right? The one that came out in 1947?” At Steve’s nod, she repeated excitedly, “I love it!”

From behind, Nat complained, “But it’s so old! Why can’t we watch something new?”

“What’s wrong with old? I like old,” Steve said, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the radio.

“That’s because _you’re_ old, daddy!” Nat grumbled. She made a face at Darcy when Steve settled on a channel playing _I’ll Be Home For Christmas_. “Do you know how old he is?”

Darcy pursed her lips. She was _not_ falling into that trap.

Luckily, Nat didn’t wait for an answer. “He’s more than a hundred years old. That’s why he likes old stuff. Uncle Sam says he was going to name me Betsy!”

Darcy turned to Steve, eyes wide and accusing. “How could you?”

“What?” Steve sputtered defensively. “I changed my mind, didn’t I?”

Nat shook her head and turned to look out of the window. “So old,” Darcy her mutter under her breath.

She chuckled, shooting Steve a look of bemusement. “Exactly what have you told your daughter about yourself?”

“Most everything, except the gritty details,” Steve replied, giving her a meaningful look that was lost on Darcy.

Gritty details? Who was he, former CIA?

She pondered over his words for a while, temporarily pushing them at the back of her mind when the car came to a stop outside an old-fashioned looking theater with a huge, glittering marquee studded with dozens of neon lights. While Steve went to get their tickets, Darcy and Nat stood by the glass doors, peering inside at the expanse of red carpet and over-the-top Christmas decorations. Darcy was impressed. Nat, not so much.

Darcy took her tiny hand in hers and swung it. “So, what’s your wish for Santa this year?”

To her amusement, Nat held up her free hand and began counting. “I want more cookies. I want a new dress for my Penny doll. I want a baby piggy. And I want my Dad to be happy.”

Darcy chuckled, charmed by her response. “You sure like cookies…”

“They’re my favorite!”

Steve was still at the ticket window, counting change and putting it in his wallet. Darcy had time to get one more question in.

She bit her lip nervously and took a chance. “Is your Dad not happy?”

The answering shrug didn’t tell her much. She hadn’t wanted to pry but the expression on Nat’s face compelled her to ask, “Where’s your mommy, Natasha?”

The redhead cast her eyes to the ground and played with the bow on her belt. “I don’t know,” she replied in a small voice, making Darcy’s heart ache.

She regretted bringing up the subject, and when Steve returned, in a bid to lighten the atmosphere, she teased, “What took you so long, old man?”

Nat immediately perked up, smirking at her father. “Yeah, old man, where’s your walking stick?”

Steve picked her up and tickled her sides, making her shriek. He pinned Darcy with a mock glare. “You can’t say stuff like that in front of her,” he grunted, earning an accidental kick in the stomach from all the tickling. He put Nat down and sighed when she began chanting “old man, old man, old man…”

“Natasha...”

“There was once an old man with a beard,” Nat sang comically.

“Are you done?”

“Who said, ‘it is just as I feared.’”

“That’s enough.”

“Two owls and a hen, four larks and a… aaaah!” She squealed as she was picked up and tickle-tortured again, but that didn’t stop her from shrieking out the rest of the poem for the whole world to hear.

Darcy, by that point, had doubled over laughing at their antics. She had no idea why Nat was so fixated on Steve’s age. He looked about 40 to her. Younger, if he shaved off his beard. But all this teasing reminded her so much of her own relationship with her father that tears sprung to her eyes and she had to wipe them with the back of her sleeve, unable, _still_ , to stop laughing. Steve had to take her arm and pull her inside the premises after him and Nat.

The latter had stopped singing and was watching Darcy with delight, seemingly proud to have rendered someone in hysterics. Steve was trying his best to look annoyed but couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“Can we go see the movie now?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

“Yes,” Darcy managed to croak out.

“And for the next three hours, can we please be adults and not act—”

“ _You’re_ the adult,” Nat retorted with a grin, setting Darcy off again.

“I knew it,” she wheezed, pointing a finger at the redhead. “Knew you were going to say that.”

Steve shook his head and let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re not allowed to spend time with Uncle Sam anymore,” he told Nat. “He’s a bad influence.”

“What about me?” Darcy chirped, straightening up and wiping tears of mirth from her face. “I started the old man thing.”

Steve snorted, turning away. “Oh, believe me, you’re not the first person to call me that.” He took Nat’s hand and began walking toward the auditorium, looking over his shoulder. “But I’ll give you a pass just this once. Come on.”

The inside was just as retro as the outside, bright and well lit. The walls on either side of them were painted with black and white faces of famous actors. The small screen at the front stood on a red stage, the curtains around which were presently closed. There was an actual facts chandelier on the ceiling, decked with artificial boughs of holly.

Darcy, Steve and Nat claimed three seats near the front and settled down, Steve conveniently in the middle. Nat leaned over his impressive bulk to offer Darcy some gummy bears.

“Where’d you get these?” Darcy asked, taking one.

“She has food in her pockets at all times,” Steve remarked, stealing one for himself before Nat could snatch her hand away.

There were only about twenty people in the theater, but it was buzzing with laughter and good cheer. Darcy felt great about being there. It was turning out to be a way better evening than she had previously imagined.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she whispered to Steve just as the curtains opened and the movie started. She had to lean closer to make her next words be heard. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

She pulled back to find Steve studying her with a curious expression, his gaze soft yet intent. “I heard what you said to Nat when I was at the ticket window,” he whispered in her ear.

A shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with being caught asking nosy questions. “How…?” she began.

“Enhanced hearing.” He said it as if everybody had it these days.

Some of the things he said confused her so much. Who was he? Was she supposed to know him?

She decided to first allay the matter at hand. “Sorry. I was just—”

“Nat’s adopted,” Steve said, shocking Darcy into silence. “I found her in a home and fell in love with her at first sight.”

The lights dimmed but they could still see each other.

“I’m not married or divorced.”

“No,” Darcy gulped, finding her voice. “That’s not why I…”

“I know,” Steve assured her with a smile. “But I wanted you to know.”

He settled back to watch the movie while Darcy mulled over everything he had said. The first thought that made a home in her mind was how amazing Steve was. He had chosen to dispel her concerns rather than be offended by her snooping. And she _had_ been snooping. Not because she had any plans to move in on him, but because the idea of a sweet kid like Nat growing up without a mother was heart-breaking. There had been a moment outside where Darcy had assumed the worst, thinking that the mother had left them. But the reality was so much better.

The heaviness she had felt in her heart after hearing Nat was left in a home, began to subside, and a new emotion took its place. She realized it was infatuation. 

She jumped when Steve turned suddenly, catching her eye.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said in her ear.

“I wasn’t staring,” she muttered, blushing. “I was thinking.”

“About what?”

Before Darcy could respond, Nat’s head popped out from his other side. “What are you talking about?” She sounded cross at being left out. “Are you talking about me?”

“Do you want us to?” Steve asked teasingly.

Nat scowled, her answer clear on her face. Someone behind them _shh_ -ed loudly and Steve shared a look with Darcy, shrugging.

“Later,” he murmured. She nodded and wished time would fly.

None of them said a word until the movie ended three hundred years later, by which time, Darcy discovered that Nat had fallen asleep. Slumped against Steve’s bicep, with her eyes closed, mouth open, and hair hanging messily over her face, she made the cutest picture. Steve lifted her in his arms, and standing behind him, Darcy couldn’t resist cupping Nat’s cheek, giving it a gentle pinch.

They walked out in relative silence, broken only when Steve asked her if she was hungry and she refused. Together, they placed Nat in the back seat of Steve’s car and arranged her in a comfortable sleeping position.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve said once they had both settled in the front.

“Not tonight,” Darcy said, keeping her voice low. “You should take her home.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Steve persisted.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach and Darcy nodded. “Okay.” She felt like a teenager all over again, giddy over a boy’s attention.

But Steve was no boy and he had captured her interest not just with his striking good looks but with his kindness. He was like the Beast in _Beauty and the Beast_ but without the anger and growling. The Beast's deep blue eyes helped Belle recognize him after he turned human. In the same way, Darcy thought she’d be able to recognize Steve’s eyes anywhere. They were kind and soft and beautiful and spoke volumes about—

“Wait!” She gasped as something slid into place in her brain.

Steve watched her worriedly as her hand came up to cover her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

But she could only stare at him, hundreds of newspaper clippings and video footages speeding through her mind at an alarming rate.

“You’re…” she trailed away, boldly reaching over to place her hands on either side of his face, covering his beard.

He sucked in a breath, his pupils dilating. “I am what?”

“Captain America,” Darcy whispered in awe.

It mustn’t have been the response he was expecting because he huffed out a quiet laugh and whatever spell they had been under broke. Darcy pulled her hands back but couldn’t find it in herself to apologize for touching him. She had liked it and _he_ wasn’t complaining either.

“I used to be,” he said after a moment, eyeing her skeptically. “You didn’t know?”

Darcy shook her head. “The beard, it… I couldn’t see your face.”

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s why I grew it. Still get recognized though.” He started the car, looking pleased. “You’re a breath of fresh air.”

“Thanks. I try,” Darcy said wryly, even though her insides were screaming. She was sitting in a car with former Captain America. It shouldn’t have been a big deal but it was. “I haven’t interacted with a superhero in ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Who do you know?”

“Thor,” she said immediately. “We used to be buddies. We saved the world together. I tasered him once.”

“Is that so?” The amusement was clear in his tone. She could tell he didn’t believe her. For some reason, she really wanted him to believe her.

“Ask him about me and he’ll tell you.”

Steve kept his eyes on the road as he drove, but his expression turned serious. “Thor left three years ago, Darcy,” he told her. “And he hasn’t been back.”

She felt her own face fall. “Oh.” Did Jane know? Had she kept this information from Darcy? After ten years, did either woman even care? “I just thought he retired and settled in Norway.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it. “No.” He gave her sidelong glance. “You tasered him?”

A snort escaped her. _Of course_ , that is what he’d come back to. Men!

She simply nodded, piquing his interest more.

“And he went down?”

“Like a lead balloon.”

Steve appeared very entertained by this little piece of news. Darcy couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Stop smiling, old man,” she teased. Damn, he really was over a hundred years old!

For the next few minutes, her mind was blissfully blank as she watched the trees go by. Thoughts like ‘I just went to a movie with Steve Rogers!’ and ‘I have a date tomorrow!’ and ‘How long has it been since I’ve been with a man?’ were pushed to the back of her mind for the time being. She was happy, _so happy_ , and she would be damned if she didn’t take a moment to revel in it.

Sadly, their destination arrived sooner than she had hoped. Steve stopped the car outside her building and turned to face her.

“I drove as slow as I could,” he divulged sheepishly. “But here we are.”

Darcy melted. God, could he be any cuter?

“Do you have a pen?” she demanded.

He plucked one from a compartment and handed it to her.

“Give me your hand,” she ordered next.

Steve pointed inside the open compartment. “I have paper.”

Darcy reddened but held out her hand for his. “I’ve always wanted to write my number on a boy’s hand,” she explained. “Never got a chance before today.”

“Well, in that case…” Steve readily placed his hand on hers.

She scribbled her phone number in the middle of his palm and then placed the pen over it. Steve pulled his hand back and studied the ink for a second, his brow furrowed. It occurred to Darcy that maybe he was memorizing it.

He caught her looking at him and smirked. “Stop smiling,” he echoed her words from earlier, only making her smile wider.

She didn’t plan on kissing him but she did, leaning forward on a whim and pressing her lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. “Bye,” she whispered. “Tell Nat I had a wonderful time.”

Later, she would text Jane and tell her she met a man today, who smelled like pumpkin spice and everything nice, and Jane would respond with ‘Never say that to my face. Who’s the lucky guy?’

Presently though, as she walked up to her apartment in a daze and fell face-first into her bed, Darcy was content with replaying that whole evening in her mind, again and again until each and every detail had been seared permanently into her brain.

Jane would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many more things about this 'verse that I wanted to fit into this story but couldn't. Hope you enjoyed what little I've given you.


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